


Storytime

by voxangelus



Series: 99 Problems but Poly Ain't One [2]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, F/M, Femdom, Pegging, Random - Freeform, Sub Mycroft, dom anthea
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 15:27:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4924939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voxangelus/pseuds/voxangelus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mycroft tells Anthea all about his meeting with Lestrade.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Storytime

“Your tie is just slightly askew, sir,” Anthea said, barely glancing up from her phone as Mycroft clambered into the car. “I trust you were able to pass along the file with no issues?” 

“I expect I shall brief you when we arrive,” he replied.

“Certainly, sir. The jet is fueled and ready to depart. We ought to be at our destination within the hour,” she replied, not even glancing up from her phone. 

He watched her thumbs flying over the surface of the phone in horrified fascination for a moment, still impressed with her texting skills that kept on evolving with the technology. He had barely mastered T9 before the iPhone and autocorrect had become the bane of his existence. He smoothed his tie down and made a minute adjustment to his waistcoat. As though he’d sully his tie, even if he had been on his knees (and happily so) for DCI Lestrade not fifteen minutes ago. He removed a bottle of Perrier from the cooler and cracked it open, occupying himself with the water and musing over just what Anthea may have packed in the Special Bag. She had hinted at a reward if he finally made a move on Lestrade, and he hoped he was in for a pleasurable evening before their tedious summit meetings began the next morning. 

“I took the liberty of changing our reservations, sir. The reviews for our previous accommodations were less than appealing. I’ve secured us a safe, securely vetted, private house for our stay in Amsterdam.” 

Mycroft hummed in response. Yes, he was in for a very good time tonight. 

 

A meal was waiting on their arrival, but Mycroft might have been eating sawdust for all the attention he paid to what was on his plate. Anthea had sent away the rented house’s security personnel, citing ‘Mr Holmes’ desire for absolute privacy’. By this coded statement from her, he knew he no longer had to be in charge; it was Anthea who was Mistress here and now. He set his fork down when he couldn’t manage to eat anything more, folding his hands in his lap and awaiting her instructions. 

She glanced up at him as she heard the scrape of knife and fork cease. “If you’ve finished, Mycroft, you may go upstairs. Disrobe and put your clothing away neatly. Then you may get our dressing gowns out and run a bath for us in the ensuite. Sit on the side of the tub or kneel next to it to wait for me.” 

He managed to make a graceful exit from the dining room, although he could barely stop from running up the stairs in his excitement. With their schedule as packed as it had been lately, sleep had been at a premium - there hadn’t been any time for play. It took him a moment to find the master bedroom. The house was far larger than they would need for just the two of them, but chances were he would need to entertain at some point in the next week to convince some person or another to sign on to one of his plans. 

Mycroft took himself through some deep breathing exercises as he removed his clothing. He carefully hung his suit up and put his shirt, vest, pants, and socks in a basket near the door. That done, he took the dressing gowns from their bags and went into the ensuite bath. It wasn’t as nice as the one in his home, but it would suffice. The tub was quite large enough to accommodate them both. He hung the dressing gowns on the hooks by the tub, arranging them so they fell in attractive folds, his and hers, and put one of the plush towels on the floor near the tub, folded over twice. 

He bent to open the taps, fluttering his fingers beneath the cascading stream of water as he adjusted for temperature, then activated the stopper. He sat on the edge of the tub and allowed the sound of the water filling the tub to wash over him, stimulating the part of his brain that was aching for white noise to latch onto, anything to ameliorate the silence and allow him to focus on something other than the butterflies in the pit of his stomach. When he next glanced down at the water, it was at an acceptable level, and he turned off the taps with a flick of his wrist. The side of the tub was comfortable enough, but he wanted - no, he _needed_ \- to kneel. 

Mycroft carefully lowered himself onto the towel, thankful for the thickness of the fabric cushioning his knees. He sat back on his calves, the toes of one foot slightly overlapping the other. It was a position he was happy to suffer for his Mistress, and he smiled to himself as he rested his hands on his pale, freckled thighs, eyes downcast to study the patterned tile on the floor. Time passed, although he was unsure how much, and then he heard the delicate click-click of Anthea’s heels on the hard flooring in the corridor. He straightened his back and clasped his hands behind him, gaze still on the floor. He heard her rummaging around in the bedroom, and then saw her shoes as crossed to him. She set the Special Bag down on the floor, although she already had something in her hand. 

“Don’t you make a pretty picture,” Anthea murmured, grasping his chin with carefully manicured fingertips. “I do so love it when you follow my instructions to the letter.” She held out the item in her hand - his collar, the water-friendly one. “Kiss it,” she commanded. 

He inclined his head slightly and kissed the engraved nameplate on the collar, the shallow grooves representing her ownership pressing into his lips. 

“Good boy,” she praised, leaning down slightly to fasten the collar around his neck, giving it a tug to be sure it wasn’t too tight. She threaded her fingers through his hair, gently tugging his head backward. “Look at me, Mycroft,” she commanded quietly. 

Mycroft brought his eyes up to her face immediately, awaiting her next command. 

“So obedient,” she cooed, releasing his hair and stepping back. “Undress me.” 

A frisson of warmth skittered through him, and Mycroft sighed happily. He must have been very good indeed if he was being granted the right to undress Her, to see what she had chosen to wear beneath her dress that day - which of his gifts had pleased her enough to adorn her body with. He began with her shoes, removing them one and a time and setting them aside, before rising to his feet to attend to the zipper of her dress. He helped her step out of the garment and set it aside before turning his attention to her lingerie. The deep plum and black satin of the striped bustier had appealed to him in the boutique, and it looked even better on her pale, creamy skin than he had imagined. She’d paired it with the matching plum satin bra and ruffled knickers, and the suspenders held black, lace-topped silk stockings at mid-thigh. Mycroft dared a glance at her face, and she was watching him with indulgent amusement. 

“I’m rather fond of your present, as you can see,” she murmured, turning in a circle to allow him to see the full effect. “But it does need to come off - I’m dying to get into that hot water.” 

“Yes, mistress,” he murmured. He was an expert at dismantling lingerie thanks to her careful tutelage, and he had her stripped down to nothing in a matter of moments. “If you’ll turn around, I’ll put your hair up for you,” he offered. 

“Hair elastics are in the pocket of the Special Bag,” Anthea said, although he didn’t need reminding. He obtained one from an outside pocket, then stood back up and gathered her hair into a loose bun, securing it at the top of her head. Mycroft then stepped back, awaiting her next instructions. 

Anthea looked him over, reaching out to trail her fingers along the collar. “Into the tub, my love. I want to sit against you while you tell me all about your time with DCI Lestrade this afternoon.” 

Mycroft breathed in sharply, teeth worrying his lower lip. “Yes, mistress,” he whispered, feeling his cheeks heat. He stepped over the side of the tub, sighing as he immersed himself in the warm water. He held his hand out to steady Anthea as she clambered in, settling between his thighs. She leaned back against his chest and pillowed her head on his shoulder. 

“Touch me, pet. Storytime.” Anthea trailed little biting kisses along his jaw. “Make it a good one and I’ll make you very happy with what I’ve got in the bag.” 

Mycroft groaned, moving his hands over her, cupping her breasts. He began his tale as he tugged and plucked at her nipples. “I went to deliver the file to Gregory, as you know. I had planned to just ask him to dinner if only to please you - but he’d dyed his hair.” It’s clear that Mycroft did not approve of this action in the least. He slid one hand down between her thighs, long fingers stroking along her folds. 

Anthea made a noise of commiseration, arching her hips up toward his questing fingers. “So what did you do?” 

He slipped his first two fingers between her labia, encountering the slick warmth that was so completely different from the surrounding water. “I tripped over my tongue like a schoolboy with a crush-”

“Because you, mmm, ah-are like a schoolboy with a crush,” she interjected breathily, “but go on.” 

“And I told him the grey hair makes him look competent and commanding. Very take-charge...” he murmured, rubbing the pads of his fingers in tiny circles on her clit. “...and that there were people who appreciated that sort of thing.” 

She managed a soft laugh as she squirmed against him. “People like you, of course,” she murmured. “Don’t tease, pet. I know those fingers are far more talented than what you’re currently showing me.”

Mycroft put his knees up, tilting the angle slightly, and replaced his fingers with his thumb on her clit, freeing his fingers to delve into the hotslickslip of her cunt as he spoke. “He caught on very quickly. So quickly. Told him how much time I had left before the car would return, then he told me I’d better get over there and show him how appreciative I was.” 

“And did you, Mycroft? Did you get on your knees like the slut you are for the dishy DCI?” Anthea asked, her voice low and lascivious in his ear as she rocked her hips in time with the thrusts of his fingers. 

He shuddered, barely able to keep his mind on his task as her shapely arse pushed against his cock, “Yes, Mistress,” he admitted, the heat of shame from her effortless success in humiliating him staining his cheeks. He twisted his hand just so, curling his fingers up into her, searching for that ridged spot. “I knelt on the floor between his legs in my suit and tie and sucked him off.” 

“Is that all?” Anthea gasped, clenching down around his fingers with a moan as she came. “God, I love those long fingers of yours,” she said, tilting her chin up and pulling his head to her for a kiss, deep and wet and hot. 

Mycroft bent to her will, following her lead in the kiss as she fucked herself on his fingers. “No, Miss,” he murmured against her lips. “I let him fuck my mouth until he came, and I swallowed every last drop.” 

She keened, bucking her hips as she came again, her cunt squeezing his fingers. He didn’t remove his hand, but he slowed his movements. 

“I’m pleased to know you’ve been displaying your exemplary manners with others,” she murmured, pressing kisses along his neck and jaw. “Tell me more, pet.”  
“He has a lovely cock, Mistress. I licked it clean, kissed it, and tucked it back into his trousers,” he replied, rubbing his thumb in light circles on her clit. 

Anthea rewarded him with another breathy moan. “Yes, that’s it, Mycroft. Keep rubbing just like - ah - that!” She stiffened against him as she came a third time, hips undulating to the movements of his fingers. “Is that all? Did you just get up and leave?” 

“He invited me out for dinner,” Mycroft confessed.

“Good. You’re soppy over him, a date is just what you need.” Anthea said, her tone brooking no argument. She grasped his wrist, pulling his hand away. “That’s enough, pet.” She waited until he’d moved his arm, then carefully turned around to kneel between his legs. “I’m very proud of you, my love. I know it was hard for you to finally make that move.” 

Mycroft could feel his cheeks reddening, as much from her endearment as from her praise. “Thank you, Mistress,” he murmured. 

She cradled his head in her palms and leaned in to kiss him with soft, tender affection. “You _have_ been very good for me, so I’ll give you a choice. I can straddle your lap right here and ride your cock, or you can see what I have in the Special Bag.” 

He didn’t even need to think it over. “The bag, please,” he replied. “I’ve been thinking about it since you mentioned a reward this morning.” 

Anthea laughed, kissing him once again. “The bag it is, then.” 

She carefully got to her feet and stepped out of the tub, reaching for a towel to rub the water from her skin. “Get out of the tub and drain it while I get things out of the bag, please.” 

Mycroft did as he was told, taking the towel she put into his hand. He pulled the plug, then sat on the side of the tub, watching Anthea’s back as she unpacked the bag onto the bathroom counter. She only removed three items, and he could see one of them was lube. 

“Close your eyes, Mycroft,” she admonished, and he did as she asked although he was dying to see what she had brought. He heard the click of the lube bottle opening, then a quiet moan of delight from Anthea, and he squirmed in anticipation. 

“You may look, pet.” 

He opened his eyes to be confronted with the sight of his mistress still completely nude but sporting her bright blue cock. It was slim and curved, the bulb end tucked up into her cunt. He couldn’t help the desperate whine that rose from his throat as he looked up at her grinning face. 

She leaned down to whisper in his ear, her hand curled around her new appendage. “It’s been a while since I fucked you - I thought this would be a suitable reward for your bravery. What do you say, Mycroft? Do you want my cock?”

He nodded, not sure he could make any noise beyond a an incoherent moan. He more than wanted it - he needed it, needed her to reduce him to nothing but a tool for her pleasure and edification. 

“Get on your knees and suck it, slut. Show me how you made DCI Lestrade come,” she ordered, pointing to the floor. 

Mycroft was on his knees in a second, his mouth wrapped around the unyielding, hard material of her cock. He sucked her like he’d done for Gregory as she watched him, her hands in his hair. 

“You were made to suck cock, Mycroft. That mouth of yours is talented in so many ways. I would keep you on your knees forever if I could and I’m sure he feels the same way,” she purred, pulling out of his mouth with an obscene ‘pop’. “Up now, my own. I want you bent over the counter. Show me that pretty arse.” 

He was only too happy to comply, and he bent over, legs wide apart and bared to her gaze. 

Anthea moved behind him, grasping his arse and squeezing. “I love how lush your arse is, pet. Your DCI is going to love it, too.” She swept a finger down into the crack of his arse, pressing against the tightly furled hole there. “I imagine he’s bigger than my cock?” she asked, stroking him as she spoke. 

“A bit shorter, but _very_ thick,” he murmured, pressing back against her hand. 

“Patience. It’s been awhile since we’ve done this and you need a good stretching,” she tutted at him, and then he felt her slick fingers against him. He pillowed his head on his folded arms with a low groan, all other thoughts dropping out of his head for the moment, surrendering fully to his mistress. She took her time working him open, fucking him with her fingers as thoroughly as she would fuck him with her cock in a few moments. She brushed her fingers against his prostate on every few strokes, and he was a babbling, incoherent mess by the time she declared him ready. It had been a long few weeks of being in control at almost every moment due to national affairs, and he had needed someone else to take the reins more than he had realized. 

He heard the crinkle of foil and then felt the slick, blunt head of her cock pressing slowly into him. It had been a while, and he was grateful she had packed the slimmest of her toys - it was a good stretch without being too painful. Soon she was bottomed out, and he could feel her roll her hips, likely grinding her clit against the ridges on the toy built for that purpose. Then she reached down and her cock started vibrating. They both moaned, and then she grasped his hips and started properly fucking him, her thrusts smooth and controlled at first, but as he started pushing back, she snapped her hips forward each time, the combination of the vibration and the sharp, quick thrusts were pushing him rather quickly toward the edge. He whined, moving his hips ineffectually, his cock touching nothing but thin air.

His mistress must have taken pity on him, for he soon had her hand wrapped loosely around him, coating him in slick. “You must want to come, after the day you’ve had. Fuck my hand, then. Get yourself off.” 

Mycroft thrust into her light grip, back and forth as she pounded into him, hard. He had been half-hard all afternoon and evening, and even with her loose grip he came in a matter of moments, cum splattering all over the front of the cabinets and the tiled floor. He heard Anthea’s high-pitched keen behind him and knew she’d managed at least one more for herself. 

She pulled out and patted his arse. “You did so well, love,” she praised him, disposing of the trash and putting her toy next to the sink to be washed. “When you think you can move, let’s get into the shower, hmm? Get all cleaned up, and then early to bed.” 

He managed a nod. He could handle that.

**Author's Note:**

> This is a four-part series.


End file.
